


Tie a Yellow Ribbon

by InnapropriateWordChoice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexuality, Dean is silly, Fluff, M/M, biromantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnapropriateWordChoice/pseuds/InnapropriateWordChoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had never expected to feel this way about someone... let alone another guy. He pushes these feelings away- he knows that he's not gay, or even bisexual. So what is it that he's feeling toward Cas? Cas, on the other hand, is encountering some difficulties when he makes his feelings for Dean known...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie a Yellow Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> My addition to the Ace SPN Minibang! I hope it's all right :)

_Awesome art for this fic_ _by[iwannaliveindeansdimples ](http://iwannaliveindeansdimples.tumblr.com/)is [found here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o48RFMcp29E&feature=youtu.be) :)_

_Thanks to[perlukafari](http://perlukafari.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta reader :)_

_*~*~*~*~*_

_...bus driver, please look for me_   
_'cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see_   
_I'm really still in prison_   
_And my love, he holds the key_   
_A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free_   
_I wrote and told him please,_

_Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the ole oak tree_   
_It's been three long years_   
_Do ya still want me?_

_*~*~*~*~*_

_Asexual..._ he mulls the word over in his mind. _I remember what that is..._ Sam thinks to himself as he stares at the laptop screen. It’s dark in the bunker, and he’s turned the brightness down- easier on his eyes and safe from prying eyes.

From what he can remember of the doubtless limited information he had gathered back at Stanford, asexuals were people who didn’t have sex... or something. He scratches the back of his head as he scans the homepage of AVEN- the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network.

“An asexual person is a person who does not experience sexual attraction,” he reads out loud quietly, clicking on ‘read more’.

*~*~*~*~*

“You know,” Sam starts, then pauses. He looks down at the open laptop screen for a minute. Dean glances over from the driver’s position, but Sam’s turned the screen away from him. “You know,” Sam says again.

Dean sighs. Looking over again, Sam’s got _that look_. The one that means he’s discovered something that Dean’s probably not going to like. Something he knows Dean’s not going to like, but something he’s going to share anyway. “What?” he asks monotonously, eyes shifting back to the road ahead.

“You know what, never mind.” Sam closes the computer and turns back to the window. “Tell you later.”

Dean can practically taste the tension in the air, but he chooses not to question it. Some things he’d be much happier not knowing. For the time being, at least.

*~*~*~*~*

A few nights later, Dean finds Sam up late in the library room of the bunker, wearing a pair of reading glasses and staring at the screen with what Dean calls his _Extreme Concentration_ face.

“What’s up?” he asks, making Sam jump a little. “You’ve been kinda, uh, you’ve been glued to that computer the past few days.”

Sam chews his lip, “Well,” he starts, “I’ve been doing some googling. Some research.”

“Look like we got a case?” Dean pulls up a chair and sits across from Sam. “Where?”

“Oh, no.... nothing like that.” Sam types something. “It’s more... personal. It’s about something those girls brought up.”

It takes Dean a moment to put it together before it dawns on him. The _Supernatural_ girls. “Out with it.” He runs a hand through his hair with a feeling of foreboding.

“You probably don’t want to know.”

“Sam...”

Sam sighs. “It’s just. I think you haven’t been thinking things through very much. Things to do with Cas.”

“What does Cas have to do with anything?” Dean mumbles. “Unless you’re trying to talk about that stupid... Deestiel thing, or whatever it was. In which case, this conversation is over.”

“Never mind.”

*~*~*~*~*

Once Dean is safely out of the way, Sam seeks out their resident Angel. “Cas,” Sam asks when he finds Castiel in the kitchen trying to bake god knows what, “hey, come here for a sec?”

“Yes?” Castiel squints inquisitively.

“Take a look at this.” Sam motions for him to come over. Castiel takes a seat while Sam turns the laptop toward him.

“What am I looking at? ‘Are you or a loved one suffering from erectile dysfun-‘” he reads from the screen before Sam closes the advertisement box.

“No. Not that. This.” Sam moves the cursor over a few paragraphs of text. “I was doing some research and came across this stuff. Read it over and tell me what you think.” He pauses. “It’s uh, it’s about angels.”

Cas takes a few moments to read the information in front of him before he pulls away. He licks his lips. “What exactly is this?” he asks.

“Well, for starters I guess you could say that it’s a kind of analysis...”

“It appears to be a thorough examination of,” Cas turns, “angel mating behavior. “

Sam laughs, reddening. “Um. That’s not really- uh. I guess that’s one way of putting it.” He smiles. “No, I meant the... the author focuses on how for angels, reproduction is distinct from what you might consider something like love.”

“True.” Cas gives a brisk nod. “Many angels do not associate procreation with deep romantic feelings.”

*~*~*~*~*

Dean pulls into the driveway to quite a sight.

There is yellow. _Everywhere_.

Yellow ribbons, in fact. They’re around an ‘old oak tree’. And now that song won’t be leaving his brain for at least the next seventy-two hours.

 _Wait a second_ , Dean thinks. _Is that... is that... goddammit_. He pulls at his short-cropped hair nervously. Maybe it was Sam. Maybe it was just a prank. He’s just screwing around, messing with Dean’s head.

 _Or maybe it was Cas,_ his mind whispers to him.

Dean’s heart jumps a little at the thought, and that feeling is _not okay_ and it _needs to stop right now_. It has a nasty habit of just... doing that for no reason.

“Ugh, Cas, if you did this I swear to god,” Dean grumbles, “Jesus, this is not a good time.”

Dean has so many other things to deal with right now. The Mark of Cain being a _major_ one of them. This isn’t the time for what Sam would probably call a sexual identity crisis. It isn’t a sexual identity crisis.

Dean’s just got this – this _thing_ , and it happens to be for _Cas_.

But it can’t be a crush- not that he’d even have a problem with that. It’s just that frankly, his dick isn’t interested, so it obviously doesn’t mean anything.

“What the ever-loving _fuck_ is going on with the ribbons?” he asks as soon as he enters. He’s met with complete silence. “Come on, I know you’re up to something.”

After a few moments, Dean hears something shuffling. He spins around to find Cas having managed to sneak up on him, even without using his angel mojo.

“Cas. Dude, what is with the ribbons?” He swallows. Suddenly his mouth is dry.

“It was just a means of greeting.” Castiel smiles.

Dean raises an eyebrow, “Greeting?”

“Yes,” Cas steps forward, “I thought it appropriate. Since Sam talked to me about...” he stops. Sam appears at the top of the stairs looking guilty.

“Since Sam talked to you about what?” Dean manages to keep a level tone of voice, teeth gritted.

“I think he called it a boat?”

Now Dean feels about as confused as Cas looks.

“Sam?”

“I said ship, not boat, Cas.” Sam sighs in exasperation. “Well. Since Cas is involved in the whole...” he makes an obscure hand motion.

“The whole...” Dean prompts. “Dude. I don’t know what-“ he mocks Sam’s arm movements, “- I don’t know what _that_ is.”

“The _destiel_ thing.”

Dean brings a hand to the back of his head. He thinks he feels the beginning of a migraine emerging - something that’s been happening more and more recently. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to maintain his cool. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to talk about that, Sam.”

“And we aren’t talking about it.” Sam grimaces. “Cas, I think we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding here.”

The angel squints. “What do you mean?”

“I,” Sam starts, beginning to steer him away- out of earshot.

*~*~*~*~*

Once they’re in a separate room, Sam lowers his voice to a hushed whisper, “I don’t think- Cas. When I talked to you about Dean’s- about Dean’s _feelings_ , I didn’t mean you should... you know.”

“You didn’t think..’ Castiel trails off and his eyes widen, “Oh. You mean I shouldn’t have declared to Dean that my feelings for him are mutual?”

Sam winces. The poor angel looks positively heartbroken. “No, no Cas. I mean, uh, Dean has a... complicated way of looking at feelings. He doesn’t always know what they mean, and he’s... He’s good at pushing down stuff that scares him.”

Cas nods. “Are you implying that Dean might be... uncomfortable with feelings toward me?”

“Because you’re a guy,” the younger Winchester sighs, “or at least, your vessel is one. And for Dean, he’s still trying to, you know, figure stuff out.”

“Oh,” Castiel says. He looks down, trying to process this new information. “What would you recommend be the best plan of action?”

*~*~*~*~*

There’s some tentative knocking on the door. Dean knows that it isn’t Cas. Cas still, after all these years, manages to misunderstand the concept of personal space, and would have come in without  knocking. Sam doesn’t usually knock either, which means that he knows he’s messed up.

“What,” Dean calls, not looking up from the book he’s been staring at for the past half hour.

Sam opens the door and comes in. He walks to the foot of the bed, glancing around the room. “Hey,” he says, “about earlier. With Cas.”

“Dude, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.” Dean sighs. “Why is that so hard for you, Stanford kid, to understand?”

“Because I don’t want to push you into anything, but I think it might be good for you to... well to talk about it, Dean.”

He snorts, “You’re not _pushing me_ into anything, Sam. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why?” Sam asks. He meets Dean’s eyes searchingly, and goddammit if he’s not trying the puppy-dog trick.

“I just don’t. You don’t seem to get it. I _like_ Cas,” _I like him a lot_ , Dean thinks, _more than any other guy I’ve been friends with,_ “he’s a great friend- and I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in the guy’s junk, Sam.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, “Dean, you know that wanting dicks isn’t all there is to wanting a relationship.”

“And I don’t want a relationship,” Dean growls. Every single relationship he’s had has ended in disaster. The sex had been great, while it lasted, but at the end, that was it. _I don’t want to mess that up if I try one with Cas_ , Dean wants to say, _I can’t make a clean break with the guy when it crumbles_. Instead, he mumbles, “Can you please just leave me alone?”

“Whatever, Dean.” Sam says before leaving the room. Dean thinks he slams the door a little harder than is absolutely necessary, but doesn’t say anything. He stares at the ceiling, tracing the contours and texture with his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*

_February 12, 1988_

Dean looked around the classroom nervously. He and Sammy had only been going to this school for about three weeks, and he still didn’t know all of the names or the faces in his class.

He remembered Betsy, who helped him to catch up with subtraction. He also remembered Cassandra, because she brought her pet turtle to school for show-and-tell last Friday. The other children seemed nice- they all let Dean play Cops ‘n Robbers with them during recess. It was awesome, except he always had to be a cop.

Out of all of them though, Brian was the nicest. Brian had dark, poofy hair and warm brown eyes, and he always smiled when he said Dean’s name. He sat next to Dean on his first day of school, and showed him all around the playground. He even made sure that when Dean was ‘it’ in Tag, Dean wouldn’t be stuck chasing people forever just because he wasn’t fast.

Brian was Dean’s favorite.

That is why Dean was peering around the classroom, waiting for Brian to get there. Most of the other students had already gotten there, and were busy exchanging wide smiles, candy hearts, and home-made valentines.

Dean looked down at his own valentine. He’d made it himself- he had convinced his dad to let him go to Wal-Mart to buy glue, colored paper and markers.

He had worked on it forever, it felt like. But it was perfect, or at least Dean thought it was perfect. It was a big, blue heart, with other smaller hearts of different colors and sizes stuck all over it. In the middle, Dean had written Brian’s name. Sammy had gotten a hold of the green felt tip marker and made a few scribbles that Dean had successfully turned into two stick figures holding hands.

Finally, Brian arrived. Dean set the valentine on his desk and waited for him to sit down. When Brian sat down, he looked at Dean, and gave him the widest smile Dean had seen since... since he was a toddler. Dean looked into Brian’s pretty brown eyes and beamed right back. A mumbled “will you be my valentine?” was met with a “yes” and a hug that left Dean feeling almost dizzy inside.

During lunch that day, they held hands under the table, and Brian teamed up with Dean every day during PE and for Cops ‘n Robbers after that.

When Dean’s dad told him that they were going to move again, Dean cried, and cried, and cried. He wouldn’t look at Brian the next day at school, even when the other boy tried to give him his fruit roll up for lunch.

A few days later, they moved away, and Dean never saw Brian again. A few weeks later, Dean was in a new school. A few months later, yet another. Years down the road, and too many schools to count afterward, Dean still remembered Brian.

He remembered the boy’s name, his pretty brown eyes, his poofy, floppy black hair, and how nice he had been to Dean.

_*~*~*~*~*_

Dean lies weary on his bed, pondering. _There’s really no reason for you to feel weary_ , he thinks, _what you’re trying to figure out is stupid and pointless anyway. Just give it up_. He frowns. _Shut up_ , he tells himself, rolling over until he’s staring at the ceiling, lying flat on his back. _That kind of thinking gets you nowhere_.

The truth is that Dean does not want to be confronted by Sam, or by Castiel, because he has not actually confronted himself yet.

How is he supposed to answer some dumb question about how he _feels_ about _Cas_ , if he doesn’t even know what he feels himself in the first place?

Deep down, however, he knows.

He knows that the feeling in his gut- that those stupid butterflies there - are decidedly _not_ some form of indigestion from a bad pie.

He likes Cas.

Dean likes Cas’ bright blue eyes: when he’s squinting in doubt, when they flash with determination, and when they look right at him, as if they can see straight into Dean’s soul. He likes to think that they do see directly into his soul.

He likes Cas’ lips: pink and soft and beautiful.

He likes the way that Castiel sometimes has messy hair, like he hasn’t quite mastered the art of being human yet, and has a tendency to forget brushing.

He likes Cas’ trench coat, even though it isn’t the old one, because it suits him oh so well in character and in fashion. 

What Dean likes most about Cas is that he’s not like Dean. Castiel is- or was- an angel of the lord, and his true form is bigger than the Chrysler building. He is the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. And he is funny, smart, inquisitive, beautiful, brave, daring, and above all, he is Dean’s best friend, and the person who means the most to him aside from Sam.

But Dean doesn’t like guys. Right?

*~*~*~*~*

_September 26, 1996_

Somehow, Dean had managed to find himself stuck in a closet. It was absolutely not as funny as it sounded. It was hot, smelled of teenage hormones, sweat, and bad beer, and he was supposed to play a stupid high school game of seven minutes in heaven.

To make a long story short, Dean actually hadn’t minded. Not that much, anyway. It was undoubtedly meant as a joke- he certainly hadn’t pushed himself in here.

 Thomas was, in his book, pretty okay looking for a guy. Tall, with lean muscles (probably a result of swim team), and a killer smile. A killer smile with soft, red lips which felt fantastic on Dean’s own the minute they were shoved in together.

“Dude,” Dean pulled away, “what?” he pulled back, putting as much distance between himself and the other boy as he could in the cramped, enclosed space.

“Dean.” Thomas smiled, running a hand through his messy red hair. Up close, Dean could see the freckles that dotted the other teen’s face, neck and shoulders. He could make out the color of Thomas’ eyes (blue) and the nervous way that he licked his lips. The sweet lips which had been hardcore making out with Dean’s own not thirty seconds before. “Don’t you want this?” the other boy asked, drawing Dean’s attention back to his eyes.

“Uh,” Dean mumbled. Yes. He looked away before meeting Thomas’ eyes again with a bashful, red-faced grin, and then they were back at it. It was fantastic. Thomas was obviously practiced, as was Dean himself. They moved against each other, Thomas’ tongue poking at Dean’s closed lips, and Dean tentatively opening them for the other boy to explore. Thomas smiled against Dean as the made out and his hands started to wander from the back of Dean’s head, to his shoulders, his back, gradually making  their way lower.

Then Dean felt it. Grinding up against him as they made out, he felt it. Suddenly, his blood ran cold, and he was breaking away from the other boy again, backing toward the door this time.

He stumbled out of the closet, red-faced and flustered. People stared and Thomas followed him out with a confused, vaguely pissed off look on his face.

Dean left the party.

_*~*~*~*~*_

“You used what?” Sam asks, brow furrowing in confusion and concern.

Castiel raises an eyebrow, “I made what is called an ‘ask’ on an online data base, and had my query answered by numerous other users.”

“So.... you used yahoo questions.” Sam sighs. “Okay.”

Ever since becoming ‘pop culture savvy’ Cas seemed to be much better at navigating the World Wide Web than both he and Dean.

“Yes, and I found some interesting results to the question I posed.” Castiel frowns, reading from the screen of Sam’s laptop, “This person... babymamma69, says that it is possible for Dean to be something which is known as asexual.”

“I’ve already looked into that,” Sam says, scanning through the rest of the answers, “and we kinda already talked about that. With the angels and love versus... procreating, thing.” He pauses, taking a moment to read the answer more thoroughly. “Hold on a sec. This answer thing talks about more stuff. Romantic stuff.”

“Exactly,” Cas says. “It mentions the romantic spectrum; similar to the spectrum of different sexualities, but different because it applies not only to asexuals, but allosexuals as well.”

“You’ve been doing your research,” Sam replies with warmth. “Well, I have too. I checked out this online site that talks about asexuality- it mentioned a lot of this. Like, homoromantic people, or biromantic and stuff, but it didn’t really occur to me that you could be...” he trails off.

“Biromantic but heterosexual?”

The angel lets the question hang in the air.

*~*~*~*~*

“Dean. I’ve been doing some research and some thinking.”

“As have I,” Dean sighs, “a lot of thinking.” He stretches to relieve some of the tension that he’s built up.

“Well, Cas and I were talking, and I thought that this might be worth your while.” Sam pats a manila file folder.

“What is it?”

“It’s just some printouts that we thought might be... enlightening. Useful.”

*~*~*~*~*

 _But I don’t like guys_ , says the voice in Dean’s head. _But I like Cas_ , he argues, _and besides, it’s not like I hate the idea of guys in general._

It’s true. Dean would even go as far as to say that he’s been completely cool with checking guys out before. He certainly isn’t averse to flirting; surprising as that ‘gay thing’ with Aaron had been.

But the god-honest truth is, that Dean just hasn’t considered that he could be... gay.

The word tastes strange, and Dean shakes it away. According to these papers, which Sam had helpfully highlighted for him, gay wouldn’t be the word for it.

No, that word was bi- romantic. He doesn’t know if it’s pronounced ‘bee’ or ‘bye’, but either way it means ‘two’. He snorts, Dean is many things, but a _romantic_ is not one of them. Partially interested in dudes? Yeah. Totally. But none of that flowers, dinners, chocolates shit.

Then Dean closes his eyes and thinks about Cas, his blue eyes, his messy hair, and his confusion with human social norms, and thinks that maybe, for someone he cares about, he could make an exception.

Maybe he could want to do that romantic stuff.

Dean knows what he has to do.

*~*~*~*~*

Dean had been acting suspicious all morning. He made scrambled eggs, toast, and ladled Sam and Cas up with two large glasses of orange juice before sending them out with tickets to the... aquarium.

That was definitely weird.

What was even weirder was the way he had almost pushed them out the door, flinging the keys to the Impala at Sam, and telling them to stay out till after lunch.

When they arrive home though, there’s a sharp intake of breath from Sam, and Castiel turns his head from the window to see what the fuss is. Then, he sees.

There’s yellow everywhere.

Yellow ribbons, to be exact.

“I’ll wait in the car.” Sam pulls out his laptop and starts to work on something. Castiel nods before getting out of the car slowly, making his way into the bunker. If this means what he thinks it means...

*~*~*~*~*

Dean is waiting for him inside. As soon as he sees the other man, his eyes light up, and he smiles genuinely. Cas hasn’t seen a genuine smile from him in a long time, and he smiles back.

“Cas,” Dean says. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he murmurs, taking off his coat, “I, uh, I saw a lot of ribbons outside. Was that-“

He doesn’t get to finish before Dean is stepping over and putting a finger to his lips. He clears his throat. “Cas, I owe you an apology. You and Sammy both. I uh, I’ve been a bit of an idiot. Recently, more so than usual,” he fumbles, his ears coloring.

“And?” the angel presses.

“Well, plain and simple, I’m an asshole.” He smiles, moving his hand away from Cas. “And that’s probably never gonna change. But I’ve done a lot of thinking, and some reading, actually. Sammy’d be proud. And the thing is, I like you.”

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes. They are big and green and searching, waiting for Cas’ answer. “I like you too, Dean,” he replies, chuckling, “I like you a lot.”

“Good.” A smile quirks at the edges of Dean’s lips, and he moves closer into Cas’ personal space, “Let me finish, though. I really like you, and that... that scares me. Cas, you’re one of the most important people to me, my best friend, and I sure as hell don’t wanna fuck that up,” he takes a deep breath, “but Cas, I’m ready now to try... to try this. If you want to try it with me.”

After Dean has finished talking, there’s a moment of silence before Castiel answers him. “Dean,” he starts, reaching out to squeeze the taller man’s hand, “I would love to try this with you.”

Dean shudders at the touch. Cas’ hands are warm and calloused, and he squeezes back. “Are you sure?” he stammers, “I just- I mean it, Cas. You really mean a lot to me and I would hate myself if I managed to mess things up.”

“But you won’t mess things up,” Cas murmurs, leaning forward and tilting his head so that his face is a few small inches away from Dean’s. “Dean?”

“Mmm?” he licks his lips nervously.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Sure, Cas.”

Cas quirks his lips in a smile before he closes the distance.

*~*~*~*~*

 _...Now the whole damned bus is cheerin'_  
_And I can't believe I see_  
_A hundred yellow ribbons 'round the ole oak tree..._


End file.
